Thorn's Challenge - Brenda Jackson [54]
His gaze held hers and the look in his eyes was dark, intense. “Do you want to ride?”
She blinked, wondering if this was a trick question. “Ride?”
He nodded, not breaking eye contact with her. “Yes, ride.”
She swallowed again, thickly, then said. “But you’ve already put your bikes up for the night.”
He nodded again. “Yes, but there’s another way we can ride while my bike stays right here. I want you to christen it for me. Then there’s no doubt in my mind that I’ll be a sure winner on Sunday.”
Tara released a deep sigh. He was confusing her, which wasn’t hard to do when the subject was about sex, considering how little she knew. But she was smart enough to have an idea of what he was suggesting. “You want us to make out on your bike?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
Her stomach clenched from his smile and his answer. “Call me crazy for not knowing the answer to this, but is such a thing possible?”
His smile widened. “Anything is possible with us, Tara, and I promise we won’t go all the way. I’ll take you part of the way, just like the other times.” He took a step toward his bike and reached out his hand. “Let me do that, baby.”
Tara wondered if he was into self-torture, because any time they made out, it was she who was left satisfied and not he. She couldn’t help but wonder what Thorn was getting out of this. “But I won’t be doing anything for you. Why are you doing this to yourself? Whenever we come together that way I’m the only one who’s satisfied.”
He thought about her question, trying to decide the best way to answer it, and decided to be as honest with her as he could. “I get my satisfaction from watching you reach an orgasm in my arms, Tara. I get a natural stone high knowing that under my ministrations you come apart, lose control and soar to the stars. And right now that’s all the satisfaction I need. My time will come later.”
There was a question she had to ask him. “When you sent those flowers to me for Valentine’s Day, the card read, Be mine. What did you mean?”
In the confines of the trailer, Thorn smelled the way she thought a man was supposed to, masculine, robust and sexy. The warm solid strength of him surrounded her, touched her, and made a foreign need tingle at the juncture of her legs. She swallowed deeply when he reached out and curled a finger beneath her chin and tipped her head back to meet his gaze.
For a moment they just stood there, staring at each other. Then he finally said, “Even if it’s for only a week, Tara, I won’t take the time we spend together lightly. I know I have no right to ask for exclusiveness beyond that point, but until then, I want to know that no other man is on your mind, in your heart or a part of your soul. When I make love to you, I want you to be mine in every way a woman can belong to a man.” And then he lowered his head, and Tara’s mouth became his.
She melted into him, into his kiss, into everything that was essentially Thorn Westmoreland. He opened his mouth wider over hers, absorbing any and every sound of pleasure she made. Disregarding the warning bells going off in her head, she clung to him thinking this was where she wanted to be, in his arms, and at the moment, that was all that mattered.
Thorn broke the kiss and lifted her into his arms. She didn’t resist him when he sat her in the bike’s passenger seat. Instead of straddling his seat with his back to her, he straddled it facing her, then leaned forward and kissed her.
His hands touched her everywhere before going to her T-shirt. He pulled it off over her head and looked down. He had discovered she wasn’t wearing a bra while dancing with her and had been anticipating this moment since then. The sight of her hard little nipples thrusting upward made him moan.
Taking her legs he wrapped them around his waist as he eased her back while leaning over and capturing a tight dark bud between his lips, letting his tongue caress it, then sucking greedily, enjoying the taste of her breasts.
But there was another taste he wanted. Another taste he needed.